Afterlife of a vampire: the fangs are back!
by SAINTIXE56
Summary: Part2. wonderful beta reader progress;chapter 4 complete, Back on Earth, some characters are learning more about their idiosynchrasies. Life carries on, the plot doth thicken, Praise be Lord Toby!French writer, reviews welcomed
1. Chapter 1

"Why can't Royal Mail be in strike when I need to sleep" sort of summed up George Sands philosophy as he strolled leisurely to the front door of his home. Once again the man in red, today face hidden behind a large cardboard box, was agitating his i-pad signature thingy. George Sands signed dutifully, legally, whatever, confirmed Swanson J lived at this address and saw off the postman.

Then, in his somnambulist trance, brought the big package in the house TV lounge. The recipient of the box was laying like an invalid, looking at close range to the small print of some sort of over the counter pill box. The result did not seem to meet his standards.

"Ms Pickering, are you sure, really sure that this medication is intended for me, because if I read the patient leaflet, it is supposed to enhance my...erm...my...my strength". Well, not my strength, Miss Christa , please"

The teenage werewolf was thrown into whoops while Tom McNair was trying too much to look shocked by such an unfeminine knowledge of the secret fears of most men.

"I am sure; you have to go to college, now! Mr McNair, please could you drive this...this typical young female of the 21st century who should show more respect to her elders"

The young couple left the house still chuckling at the soldier outrage.

"George? Really, this is not becoming of a well behaved young lady. In my days, they were a lot more demure"

"You must have lived a pretty sheltered life if you want us to believe that in your days girls are simpering misses of long time gone. How old are you?"

(Stupid, stupid, must back pedal quick; 1914 manners are not 2000 social codes).

"The people who cared for us at the orphanage were sort of like in an older era, we were taught to respect womanhood and look at you like a knight looks his lady" (Do not overdo it, now, you look like an idiot, a nice idiot, an idiot none the less)

"What happened really, in Afghanistan?"

(Keep focus, we are discussing pills, let carry on with the pills)." I am reading each leaflet, Nurse Pickering, I may be a soldier, I am not an idiot, nor will I swallow blindly each and every pill under the sun and the moon you present"

Nina heaved a big sigh. The vampire was polite, well behaved; compared to Mitchell, except for a strong portfolio in fine swearing and cussing, this man was coming as close as could ever be this unbelievable thing known as a decent, good vampire. Decent, but stubborn. Nearly every day, she had to explain again why he needed the about 100 tablets a day, rain or shine and for a very long time.

"Have you ever fed?"

The outraged blue eyes were a good enough answer.

"You suffered a severe blood loss and your antics with Wyndham reopened the wounds. We nearly lost you. A mass murderer is one thing, a man who saves 15 people in a bank robbery with hostages; a man who saves the lives of us five despite 3 gunshots wounds is another thing. We owe you big time, Swanson."

"Nothing at all, Miss Nina, I mean, Miss, em, Nurse Pickering. Happy to oblige"

"You cannot get a blood transfusion, hence iron tablets. Loads of iron tablets...For a very long period of time"

"I get the why of the tablets, it is the 100 that is harder to comprehend"

"Vampires do not make blood, right? I have calculated how much you need somewhat empirically. That blood sample, I took two weeks ago, told me your haemoglobin is about 4. If you were alive, you would be about dead or dying. So between this and your size, the fact your are a vampire , and what I know of your specie disgusting feeding habits, I would say 100 tablets is a fair average and drink your daily 3 litres of orange juice. Vitamin C is good for you. Much better than your smoking habit. Upon which, we start early, because tonight is the Night Out"

It was full moon tonight; the expecting nurse was almost in the last throes of a very fast tracked pregnancy. Tonight, she would change in the cellar, while Tom, Christa and George would be heading to the woods in McNair battered old car. The Vintage Volvo was to stay parked safe from any street robber near the B&B. The tall vampire stretched up, holding quickly the chair as he was feeling giddy. Every day giddy, dizzy, you name it. How long was it going to take till he stopped feeling,..., being an invalid.

"Be patient, there is no rush."

"I need a job, the sooner, the better. I must pay my share of the household expenses"

"You stop the nonsense, you saved the household; you even paid for the carpet cleaning."

The mid-late 20s couple left the house, heading for some cheap Mothercare emporium. More and more Nina was taking a liking of the wounded soldier. As a nurse, she always had a soft spot for her patients. This patient was polite, thankful, trying to do his best to fit in a house which was not his, learning his way in the vampires world, staid fast holding to his refusal to drink blood. Better than an abstinent! Good lad. No binge drinking with the quiet lieutenant. A rota for the shower had quickly been nailed on the bathroom door. After his mid morning nap, he washed the breakfast dishes and mugs; and was seen browsing the internet looking for a cheap but serviceable dishwasher. This un-dead was the death of household chores. You could rely on him. He would be there to sign any receipt for the mail. This was good as Nina had ordered all over the web, vast amounts of iron tablets to avoid detection. The boxes had almost filled the entire bar area!

Only Annie, always about mute when she was sitting close to him, and the Irish soldier, sat at the table. Silence set in. Long silence.

(Sorry, Annie, It is better like that. I really can't take it anymore, love)

"You do not eat, Miss Sawyer?"

"No, thank you, Lieutenant, ghosts do not drink or eat. And no, I do not need to sleep."

"You should, it helps. Read somewhere it releases the tension of psychological burdens..."

"I have no burdens, thank you"

(Great, she has left the room. Whatever I say, it is wrong footing her). Pulling his short hair, he grabbed yesterday newspaper, and opened at the Job offers section. He looked up from the pages.

Annie was there, looking at him, doing this hair mannerism.

(Oops, big oops. Better find a quick answer)

"I apologize, I am not myself lately. My...my boyfriend died a few weeks ago. It is not your fault. I simply resent anyone else, who is...is"

She was gone. He heard his old bedroom door slammed; watched the telly flicker. She was crying; he was hearing her cries, through the walls, through the door, throughout the entire house. She was missing him; she loved him still, just as much he craved for her, for her touch. But that was forbidden. Their love was forbidden. As long as the two lovers were apart, they could live and love each other, never revealing their passion to their soul mate.

(Better focus on a job, mate. Unless you plan to fall in the stairs in your state, pretend you hear nothing. She does not cry for you, she does not beg for your company, she grieves for that son of a bitch Mitchell; who is dead. Staked. Proper dead, Remember; when she looks at you, she sees a pleasant faced older man, with a soldier bearing, a bit on the quiet and sarcastic side. The guy who had found out why the urn was hissing; the plumber, not the lover)

Turning the page, slowly, he started scanning all the ads looking for a night position. Soon, he knew he would feel strong enough to give a phone call without starting to pant, short of breath after three minutes speech.

Ever so slow, he reached the stairs and started the ascension. If he managed to climb to the attic without stopping once, even if it took thirty minutes, he would be celebrating. Nina should be praised about the iron solution. Since a few days, he was less and less out of breath.

(Flowers. What flowers? Flowers to thank Nina, you, dummy. Swanson, you are boring with that Miss Manners attitude! OK. Flowers)

Mitchell was aware he was sharing this body with the real Swanson, a decent if rather nerdy guy. Mind you, the impeccable good breeding of the lieutenant have won him Nina approbation. Annie was out of limits, George was happy to see less bills piling up. Christa loved the older guy's respectful banter. Now Tom was another kettle of fish or offal...

As Mitchell, Tom and he had hit quite nicely; but as John Swanson, it was obvious he was suspected to harbour less than honourable designs regarding Miss Christa. The colder, more antiquated politeness he offered, the more convinced of nefarious intentions he was suspected to hold.

(Tom, enjoy, relax. My girl is a sunny girl with ringlets and curls, who is prone to swallow stupid pills, like me. I mean like Mitchell; like me...me John if you consider the number of tablets or capsules Dr Pickering has ordered)

(Ok, reaching my room, the attic; getting to the bed without staggering or panting like a bear. Shit, someone is at the door)

"Coming! Leave it, Ann...Miss Sawyer, I had but barely started to climb. Commiiinngg!"

Huffing and puffing like an exhausted water pipe, he opened wide the door. He was not afraid of humans; he knew the drill, you get lost when you start to pay attention to the blood pulsating, hence solution: pretend you are deaf. Today, he was very deaf. The person behind the door was either having a heart attack or was as dead as him.

The blond young woman was looking at a very tall personable young man. Late 20s, possibly early 30s. Another bloody vampire, this town was bursting with vampires. She, too, was a vampire, do not rub it, OK!

"Who are you?"

Her hand almost reached her police ID; darn, she was dead and a human police woman might be frightening if you are human. As a very young vampire, he was going probably to throw her in the street.

(Thanks Swanson. My pleasure) Years of military training had left a trace. Mitchell (sorry, Swanson) remained emotionless as he was facing this policewoman of Hell. A vampire, what the fuck; then he remembered that somehow in the car before they reached the beach, Herrick had told him how he had turned the young inspector.

"Quality recruitment, Mitchell. If she is good enough to get you arrested, she is good enough to be recruited. No way, I let the Old Ones head, hehe, neck hunt this girl"

She was as good looking as ever; and Swanson was quite satisfied too. (What the fuck, are you doing?). She stood up trying to stand as tall as she could, but the man was way taller (I like my women small, Mitchell, live with it). Under a rather short crop of curly chestnut hair, a pair of humorous bluer than blue eyes was looking down at her. Just a hint of freckles, a rather indeterminate nose, fashionable stubble, firm lips, and a chin "a la Johnny Depp". This man was born to break hearts. Well? He would not. Firstly, because technically her heart had stopped beating since a few weeks, secondly she knew the type. He knew he was easy on the eyes and she was meaning business. Totally mismatched.

"Miss? Mrs?"

"Stop pretending, we both know what we are. So either you let me in, or I shall make so many nuisances in front of your house that..."

The soldier pulled her in.

"Who are you and where is this lovely Nina, you know the girl who has turned her home into a hostel for vampires? I must thank her personally for allowing me to have a soul shattering experience. A little nip would be de rigueur, I think. And where is that bastard Mitchell?"

He pushed her rather unceremoniously in the front room and sat in the nearest armchair. This was going to need a lot of balls to juggle with.

"You look thirsty; when was the last time you fed. Not that I approve of the Hunger. Pretty disgusting habit, like snuffing tobacco. Do you snuff?"

Mitchell knew Nancy particular methods of cross-questioning suspects. This was new for Swanson. New and...fascinating, riveting. The idiot was looking at the vampire woman like a man who has been in the desert for weeks end and finally finds water. If he had been a cartoon, his character would have already seized the girl and smack kisses all over her. That's the problem with those silent types. They look shy, lift the lid, and it is Sexo Inferno. Not that he minded the older man his fantasies. After all, he had plenty of his own about Annie.

(Let's both smile, pat the nearest cushion, pillow what have you).

"Please sit. These days, I am a bit anaemic"

Nancy sat, the male vampire tone was forceful and no man had ever dared to look at her with those eyes, shy, quiet, polite and forceful. An interesting combination.

"Drink"

"I have decided to abstain from the beginning"

"Is it feasible?"

"Some coven had done it in Bristol, I think"

"I can't believe that guy Mitchell. One day, he is VA poster boy, next day the bloody fucking shitty..."

"Erm, erm, Miss, those lips are too lovely to have them soiled by swearing!"

(Swanson, stop flirting. Ask what she is doing here, please, focus Man).

"He is dead... and he was a ...complicated man"

"Which leaves Nina to provide some fascinating answers as why she was harbouring two vampires"

Nancy was now wrinkling her delicate nose.

"Are you aware this house is positively whiffing, it smells like...like an overcrowded kennel?"

"That would be because 4 werewolves live in there...with me and Miss Sawyer. Let me introduce you two. Miss Sawyer, ghost, our friend, master chef and Queen of the Tea Mug. Miss ..."

" Nancy Reid, I know you"

"?"

" I was leaving you messages"

"So, you are accomplice to my murder? What sort of people are you in this house. You live with a mass murderer, probably another killer. Well, all vampires are killers. Myself, I had to munch. The accomplice of a police officer murder; you have some friends of yours bursting in and killing more policemen, you have crappy Nina telling lies. I am getting angry. Someone will to have to pay dear, capital and loads of interests!"


	2. Chapter 2

"Do you want some tea?"

"Are you the tea Goddess who made that amazing brew when I...visited the first time?"

"Indeed. And the biscuits too!"

Strange it was, both girls were warming up to each other. The two were different as can be; his Annie was tall, shy, a bit of a reclusive and a pristine housewife (The Pink House bore witness to it, even when we boys lived in it.)(Not your room. It was off limits. Interesting carpet in your room, Mitchell. Possibly too bloody red. )(Shut up).

So was Nancy (Not a housewife, probably not) the repair on the trouser leg proved that stitching had not been a high point of her curriculum. But she was good looking, assertive, knew her business, not a fool, quite loud, (I like girls who are matter of fact) (Shut up, I get it)

The two women, now, looked up at him, expecting him on cue to direct the conversation.

"Something happened"

"No? You tell me! Now cut the bullshit and start telling the truth."

" A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away..., either you pay attention and understand I have no beef in that story or I shall be telling you lies wilder than those heard in Kandahar Bazaar"

Nancy dug a thick book, took out a pencil...and an eraser, ready to take notes.

All started with CESSNA. What. C E S S N A; he would explain later. While Mitchell was trying empirically to stop the Bristol vampires getting high on blood, a mysterious group had planned their murders. An explosion had killed about all the vampire friends. Not all were killed really, as those who did not die in the fire were simply unconscious, in a coma like him. He had been lucky, there had not been as lucky as him.

The military surgeons had believed him with a severe head injury and worked out the impossible to save his life; technically he had been injured. He suffered enough headaches for England plus quite a severe case of amnesia. To go back to Bristol, 20 of the 31 vampires not turned into ashes because of the bomb, were turned into ashes as their so-called dead bodies went down the cremation route. Officially they were dead; now they were really dead. Burnt alive. In total: 31 lives lost. Mitchell had lost it too. Crazy with guilt and despair, holding him responsible, he had vowed retaliation.

Mrs Daisy Hannigan-Spiteri (Nancy nodded), the widow of one of the victims was in serious grief, as her husband Mr Ivan Spiteri... That would be her second husband, but the first husband had been human; she was human at the time...Arrgghhh, those vampires' family lines were complicated. Mr Spiteri was among of those burnt alive. This was a genocide directed at vampires. So, the two of them had decided t was payback time. 20 vampires burned alive, 20 humans to be butchered as their friends had been. The two vampires had calculated how many people got in every box; the BT had 19, plus the train driver. 20. The BT20 would pay for the Bristol 20. Poetic justice had said Mrs Spiteri.

It was stupid, the problem was CESSNA. And the humans who were financing this project. Instead of that Mitchell went on a private rampage, solving nothing. Turning more and more paranoid (Yes, you were, mate. It was under your nose. Follow the money flow). The stellar young inspector had followed the leads, the ghostly leads. The rest, she knew.

(I was stupid, Soo stupid. It was not your fault, mate; you need a cool head to see the bigger picture, a neutral head. Those operations like Bristol cost a lot of money; that Kemp was as poor as church mice, Jaggatt did not drive a Rolls Royce, even if she had a consultant pay. It was too much personal, you could not help it)

"CESSNA, they rented a bank. Which bank? That bomb, how did they access to the explosive? This machine, that costs a lot?"

"That is where you enter the stage, Miss Reid"

Because that was the secret thing no one had really paid attention at, the clue under everyone's nose; if only everybody had paid attention from the beginning, religious fanatics now days do not wield power. Churches are not anymore into the Spanish Inquisition, the real Churches are banks, money. Who was behind CESSNA? Who were those faceless men and women who had poured good hard earned money into a cracked head like Kemp?

Everybody could see through his seams. The man wanted to star in the Exorcist. George had held doubts from the beginning, Tully Dog, not the brightest of hounds had smelled something rotten. Only Nina so desperate, so ashamed of her condition had believed the priest could help her. Why had she not read that rubbish of all rubbish book Lucy Jaggatt wrote? The international scientific community had laughed. Even the nurses in his ward were chuckling. The thing was not even holding against fun fantasy science. Mythological studies were more serious. "What next?" Was the position of the real searchers. "Vampires and werewolves are aliens!"

(I believed in her; I thought she would save me.)( Only "you" can save "you" from yourself, matey. Only "you". )(God knows I wish a magic wand would give me back my body without an extra soul to share, but I know I have to find the solution to that body sharing myself)

"What are your plans?"

"Someone is planning a massive ethnic cleansing against us, Nancy. Against us, Miss Sawyer. Naturally as in any society, we are divided. Instead of being united, Lycos and we are like cats and dogs; and cherry on the cake our own leaders are hapless."

"The Old Ones are hapless?"

"Old is the master code. They want no change; we carry on like we are. Wyndham who is no better but a personal assistant to a less sleepy senator, was supposed to take m...Mitchell back to South America. This role of the Wrath of God he has taken is a joke. Wyndham ..."

"For a recently turned vampire, and a severely wounded man, you seem to know a lot"

"I have had a head injury, which does not mean I am daft! Besides, we have websites and vampipedia. Miss Nan...Miss Reid can surf the internet, she will know as much as I do"

"I suppose you may well call me Nancy, now. No more social niceties are desirable , you know, when you area fang girl"

The young detective was a game girl; fact remained she was a vampire and she was taking quite badly to have lost in one single bite her work, her family and her friends.

"It is not your fault, it is not my fault. We have not asked to become vampires. We have been contaminated, infected. We are like,..., like patients in infectious diseases wards. No one asks to be infected with Chlamydia. Humans should help us, not stake us. Imagine what families would say if we started burning to the stake syphilitic patients"

"Vampires are not bacteria?"

"No, Miss Sawyer, no we are not! We are infected, sick, contaminating, disseminating, yes. But we are human, and I shall be damned rather than drink one drop of blood from my brother. The Hunger is unbearable, but the infection is contained. It is not spreading, at least not by me"

"I am sorry. I did not think that a vampire could consider..."

"You do not know; it is bad enough as it is. But at least I can see my face in the mirror and ...actually I can't!"

"The Old Ones?...,? Does it mean?"

"Elementary, Mi...Nancy, Nancy. There is an opposition. Underground. Herrick had sleeper cells. He was not the only one to have sleeper cells"

"Why sleeper cells. Why not in the open, there is no shame at all. In fact, it is quite thrilling, like discovering America! I thought, We all think vampires, blood suckers, yadayada; but you are like a country, with rules and ..."

"We may be a 21st century country tweeting all over, but our rulers are backward bastards whose notions about democracy are as recent as the Pharaohs's. Mitchell Bristol Vampires Anonymous was a pilot. If it worked, we had planned to go state wise, then Europe wise"

"Mitchell was one of your "revolutionaries"? My Mitchell wanted to change his world?"

(Yes, Annie, I could not tell you my world secret war. There was too much danger; you and the household were too much at risk. Herrick was just having a middle manager crisis. But try and out throw people who have ruled for thousands of years, and count you lucky to be staked and burnt alive at the same time)

The door was opened with a big slam.

"Nina, I think we are enough ready as we are. It has to stop or we are opening a shop!"

George carrying about every possible bag related to baby wear, baby fashion, baby food, baby furniture known in England came into the front room.

"Oh, I understand now, the smell!"

"Nice! Young lady, I don't care if you are a vampire or not but this chair is my partner chair. My partner needs this chair now, if you please"

"How do you do, Miss Pickering? I am quite hungry now; you mind if I sort of munch..."

Chaos was beginning. The petite werewolf was holding her ground restrained by George, Annie was trying to keep her apart from Nancy also restrained by the vampire soldier.

-"I suggest we all sit. In the front room. And I take the sofa. I remind you all, I am the patient, and Nina will sit in the deep armchair. Nancy at my right, near my un-lame arm so I can...Stop it. Settle. Calm. Breathe in and out; that's for you Nina. George and I as civilized gentlemen will face each other. A...Miss Sawyer will sit at my left. My feet on the coffee table. We can start"

(Masterful, Swanson. My friend, I am impressed.)( Training, years of peace keeping in Helmand. When you have spent a year trying to calm family feuds going way back to the Raj, you know how to start peace talks)

Nina face change was dramatic as she learnt what had been the real behind the scene story in Bristol. What did that make for her cub? Not only the baby was the child of monsters, he was now the intended guinea pig for the Old Ones, but also right in the middle of a cold or hot war between vampires and possibly werewolves. Civil war was rife in the supernatural world. Two years ago, she was complaining how boring her world was.

George was worried, worried and fascinated. It all made sense. All those things Mitchell had vaguely, very vaguely evoked. All the missing bits also. The puzzle was taking shape.

"What's next? I get the cloak and dagger war, the New Labour, Tory politics; but what was Mitchell, really?"

"A secret agent, trying to infiltrate the Old Ones web. If he succeeded to get feeding vampires to stop, people like me, like Adam, could be more in the open, not as risk of an untimely death. But, Wyndham caught him. Either you saved him, even by killing him; or the Old Ones,..., the Old Ones have ways which make Nazi Germany look like Teletubby land"

"So, I saved him. I really saved him, saved his life"

"Yes, you did"

(Yes, you did George, I had been found out. In South America, being turned into an Attack Dog would have been the plus side. Staking was the only solution to save me from the vampire gene. You have no idea what they do to us when we fall alive in their hands, what they do in their research centres.) (Focus Mitchell, you are a soldier. We cannot afford troops with nervous breakdowns)

Swanson was right. Mitchell had died in a blaze of glory, giving his life for a just cause. This new generation of vampires was the fresh new blood his old tired world needed. Smart kids, not fussy, possibly a bit boring when it came to find its true love, but efficient.

About true love, Swanson was looking at Nancy like a bee zooming on a flower. Said flower was uninterested. (Nancy, Swanson?) ; rather she was reviewing her notes, asking for websites address, were there special firewalls, etc. Swanson might have the more dispiriting choice of shoes, but he was sharp when it came to information about the vampire world.

Christa ,who was back for college and Tom had listened in silence. What this much bigger picture meant for the two star crossed lovers who would die rather than admit they were lovers.

Vampire world was a country, vampires allegiance was to the vampiric world. Seldom would they interfere in human affairs, unless said humans went really overboard as in World War II; as for money, they traded in all currencies, Money was not a problem, they had one or more card to play in every boardroom of each and every bank of the planet. The Old Ones decided and all followed. Until about one or two centuries ago, guys like Ivan Spiteri had decided that enough was enough. Fair enough they had to feed, but staying in the shadows was wrong. Why could he not enjoy when not hungry the many beauties of the world, why not enjoy humanity as its best sincerely, after feeding? The much younger vampire had been punished, his bride had been staked in front of him; the woman who had loved him enough to wish to become like him so he would not be alone has been turned into smoke. Ivan went cruel, bitter, and cynical; but his message of hope, of change had not been forgotten.

And his idea must have been right all along; as after about 150 years of widowhood and celibacy (celibacy for a vampire is...complicated. Thank you, Mitchell, I am not stupid), his bride had been returned to him. His Daisy was back. The legends were true! His dark angel Ivan had followed the lead, going deeper into the unsuspecting human world. A vampire could mingle with humans as long as he did not feed, be happy, share the same pains, woes and joys and loves as humans. Even killing Dan had been worth it. He had been given 20 years of humanity. Somewhere in the direction of abstaining from blood was the cure for their medical condition.

"Medical?"

"Yes, Ms Pickering. Medical, there are some of us, like me, who call ourselves human. Human like George or you, but also like the post man who delivered the box this morning. We have a medical condition called vampirism. One day, we shall find a cure, and for werewolves too. Until then, we must accept to be in quarantine; but we are humans. I'd rather spend my life in a hospital fed by tube than endanger my human brother. "

"So after Kemp and his religious fantasies, we have vampires begging to be cured. Kemp would have loved you, if ever he was capable of love"

"I am talking science, medicine. Nurse. Not religion"

"That must no go well with the Old Ones"

"They hunt us, try to get us betray our friends, a bit of torture and we are smoked"

"Research means money. Mitchell was not exactly rich"

"We are not rich. I had to sell my car, though I think I can get Ivan's back. An injured soldier benefits is not going far. But if we could convince the younger Old Ones or that would be a miracle, one of their own Dark Angels that would mean a lot in our world. The main stream vampires like, like Richard, the rug boy, would think twice before feeding. If we stop feeding, we are no more a danger; we can be re-integrated in the human embrace. Contained yes, but accepted as humans."

It was left to George to conclude.

"We do not have one fight on our hands but two. The Old Ones and who or what is behind CESSNA!"

Nancy left soon after. Some research. Before her death, she had been quite a geek when it came to computers. If Swanson had not lied, she would be proud to be known as his first recruit. A recruiting which would not be done by blood allegiance, a first for vampires.

"We shall need that car. Mitchell Volvo is reliable; but McNair mobile home is living its last days. Ivan car would be welcomed A S A P!"

"How do you plan to get it"

"I shall have to go to Bristol"

"In your state, you are barely able to walk or climb stairs. You can't..."

"Nancy will come with me"

(Nancy, sly dog. You sure play a long hand.)( Mitchell, I do not comment on Miss Sawyer; please leave Nancy Reid alone)

Annie had disappeared again. This time, she was sitting on Mitchell bed. You make people better, she could hear him. He had done his best to be better. He had killed those people, but he had been driven to it. He had been so much more than better and she had betrayed him. Pushed him into Wyndham's arms. She had not known what she had been doing. The BT20 was a tragedy of incomprehension and despair. He deserved to be punished, but not this way, not this way.

She was sobbing uncontrollably. The man she did not know anymore was the man she should have known from the beginning. A decent man. A dead man. George had held the stake; she had been the driving force behind him. She had killed him more surely than Lia wolf shape bullet. She had been the weapon, the successful weapon all along.


	3. Chapter 3

It was night. It had taken much longer than anticipated to get McNair van started. The old van was dying; it had lived its long life of serviceable reliable transport machine. Not fussy, not fancy but faithful, dignified a bit like its original first owner. It was Tom inheritance, the only riches he had got from his foster father, his Dad. Even, if the older man had not been his real biological father, he had raised the infant like his own; he had managed to give the child as strange as can be a father and a mother love. Tom wondered who the real woman behind the lies was. There had been a woman, he knew that. The descriptions were too real, too fresh and raw to have been lies.

There had been one day a Mrs McNair of some sort. A tall proud woman, a bit like Anthony, with a bob cut black hair, a sharp sense of humour, a non –nonsense attitude to life. He had been able to sort of imagine her walking with them on the beach when his father had taught him how to swim. Swim and splash…

- "Tom, really, you know better than that…"

- "Look at me, Dad, I am going to catch you, I am a shark…Grr…Grr"

- "No, you are not. Ok, you are. How my God, I see a shark. I am petrified in water and I cannot run quick enough to the beach"

- "I am going to eat you"

- "No, you are not"

- "Yes, I am"

- "Did I tell you about Mom at the beach"

- "We were young in those days, and not very rich. We arrived very late that night at this very posh French sea town. We parked the van in front of that cheap hotel. It was dark and it was winter. Winter, Tom. Your mom looks at me and the sea and you know what, Tom?"

- "What, Dad?"

- "France, February, North Sea, Night. Tom, your mom opens the door, gets in the back, shuffles about and out she comes in her bathing suit. Walks by me and says Tony, you do not plan to go skinny dipping do you?"

- "Mommy would not like that, Dad!"

- "No, prim and proper, your mom. No skinny dipping even in total darkness"

- "So, I put my trunks and I follow Mom; I thought she only wanted to wet her feet. But, not her, not your mom. She entered the sea like a queen and swam. She swam in the middle of the night, in that freezing water. I thought I was dying, but she, she swam. After that, after we rubbed our backs with our towels, she looked at me. You know what she said, Tom?"

- "It was cold?"

- "Yes, Tom. She looks at me and says: "That was rather cold, Tony. Why didn't you stop me?" I look at her and say:"What? I almost died of cold exposure and you…" She looks at me again with that quizzical smile of her and she kissed me in the dark, on that parking, in that cold winter night. I could have crossed the Channel without feeling the cold. Ah, Tom, Your mom. She was a right one"

The young boy had stopped splashing the waves; the little 5ys old could imagine his mum, his beautiful mom waving at him in a distance from the sandy beach. His no-nonsense mom with a wicked sense of humour. Mummy, I miss you so much Mummy. One day, when he will be tall, much taller than today, he would save her, avenge her. Those bad people, those vampires who had killed her; those people who made more often then once stifle Dad's voice. Dad who tried so much to share, to give life to a sorely missed Mummy. Dad who did not cry. Men do not cry, Tom.

Yes, Dad, Men do not cry. They just get silent and look far far away from you, through you, looking in the distance at someone, someone blurry , blurry like their eyes; then they sigh, they look down, they look at you with that sad smile and carry on like nothing had happened, like you had not seen how wounded they are, how crucified they are. That is the way the quiet ones grieve; they do not shout, they do not rebel, they simply carry on. Drop after drop. Bleeding to death slowly, quietly. Till one day, they give up, they cannot carry on anymore, they cannot pretend anymore.

They cross the door and finally, finally after all those years of loneliness, of craving the missed one, they are finally One again. It is not that they do not love you; it is that they miss so much their other half. Not the OH misused, disrespectful. No the real half of their very own soul. The half that gave light to their life. The half whose closed eyes took away all the light of their world.

- "They could put more lights on those roads"

- "Aaahooah? Aaah! Yes, they could. That is the problem of this world. Damned if you do and damned if you don't. Either you spend the money on traffic, or you spend it on the NHS. Money does not spread, does not multiply. Since the Great War, our country has never properly recovered…"

- "The Great War?"

(Nice one, Mitchell, why not share your experience about the Versailles treaty and the Weimar Republic! Let me handle this before the kid notices it)

- "Yes, Tom. Your teachers must have explained that all started after WW1, Stalin supporting anti-colonialism, we lost all the economic important input of India in 1947 and our African colonies. So we are not as rich as…"

- "Oh? I see. I thought you were talking as you had been around in those days"

- "I am fully aware that you look at me as an old geezer. I accept that I am the oldest member of the household. I accept that I am thirty…"

- " No, you're not and never will be by the way"

- "Regardless, firstly be a bit more respectful to your elders, secondly if you had paid attention to your History Teacher, I would not be obliged to state the bloody obvious"

- "Dad said that when someone as well-behaved as you are and Dad would have approved of your manners, even if you are a vampire, Dad said that means it must have hit a nerve"

- "Hhmmpff, whatever…"

(Told you the kid was smart. The kid is smart; the kid is after me, sniffing the air like a hound. He knows there is something about me, about us. He has not figured out it yet, but he will)

(So what? So how are you going to explain to the welcome committee that the robbery hero is also the BT20 killer? Our lives are enough complicated as it is without telling the truth)

(Annie…Yeah Annie, to which I reply Nancy. You are frustrated, I am frustrated. You could not score; well, I bloody well can. I do not fall in love with another specie, I can score as much as I want, and I do not have "issues" Mitchell. I have no back burner crime waiting to be revealed. I am a good guy but I am also stuck in that crazy time body sharing scheme. Accept it. With Dignity. Like me.)

The young wolf eyes scanned the half asleep dark shape. The vampiric soldier was stretched as much as he could on the passenger seat. His body trying to fit in a very smaller space much than he would like. Tomorrow, in Bristol, they would get that other vampire Vintage Car. Swanson had told him, he would liked it. Can stretch the leg. The secret of a good car is in the length of your femur. If it does not fit, do not buy it. Vampires and their unfathomable reasoning.

He liked the van, he liked it because it was his home, Dad home, Dad and Mom holiday van, before the blood suckers attacked his family brick built detached family home. One day, while they were walking in a park, Dad had shown him a house. An Edwardian House. A man was mowing the lawn, while his son was collecting the cut grass behind. A woman carrying a tray had come, bringing to each of her men a mug. Her hand had caressed the child tousled hair, her husband smiling at the scene. Nothing fussy, a elegant metaphor of what a happy family is about.

- "You see that house, Tom? Mom's house was like that, when she was a young girl. Your grandparents had money, loads of money and their family looked at me as an interloper. But not your Mom. She looked at me, decided that was not the life she wanted and that I was the man she wanted. I wish I could have offered her that life style though. She was a queen, a real gentle, soft queen. She deserved the best and you know what, Tom, she never looked back. She said I was making her feel alive, more alive than in "that" museum."

- "They did not like you, Grandpa I mean?"

- "Her Dad was already dead and her Mom, now she would have spoiled you to bits. She knew how to make apple pie. Tom, your grandma's apple pie. Hummm! No, it was not your grandparents; it was the rest of the family. They were snobs. Not aristocrats, not gentry. Just lucky to be born into money and holding their noses down to people like you and me"

- "But not Mommy!"

- "No, Tom, Not Mommy. Did I tell you that one day, she walked barefooted all through London Town?"

- "No? Not Mommy…"

It was his childhood home. Even they had not a proper home, it had been home. That is where his father has taught his son the basics of school. Trying to give as much academic knowledge he could give to a child who turned into a crazed angry monster every full moon. Try telling that to the headmaster that your only child cannot go to school trips before of a lunar calendar. They had managed though to reach between here and there the GCSE class, but he had dropped out. No choice, the exam was the very next day of the Change. The teenager would be way too exhausted to even get an E. That's for you, you…you snobby…A level officer!

It was weak, he knew, but he was not going to start cursing because a vampire had made a remark about his poor academic baggage. He had lost his mother, his father, now his childhood home. Their home where Dad and Mom had been happy, travelling to all those places he had never seen but through the eyes of their love for him. Angrily whipping a tear from his right eye, he looked out to the narrow band of light in front of the van. A new car was needed. Not that the "new" car was going to be new, but the engine was better, finely tuned. Ivan was possibly old fashioned, but he knew how to upgrade an engine with all the latest trimmings.

(Ivan told me once that he would never miss Top Gear. "Jeremy Clarkson is a twat, Mitchell, true; but he has seen the Light". Whereas as says our young dog friend aptly, this road has about none, lights)

- "How long have you been driving?"

- "About 2, 3 months. Dad showed me"

- "What two months only?Do you realize that this car is precious, it is an antique! Under the hood, there is a motor that…"

- "…runs like any other engine. Look, I can and will get a driver license as soon as I get enough money to pay for it. It is not a pro…"

- "It is a fu…fundamental problem. You cannot drive without a license. Think Police. I do not know if the car is even insured. And here you come, telling me not to worry because "Dad"! "Dad told me" how to drive. Jesus!"

(Leave it to me Mitchell, antagonizing the kid is not going to help)

- "The good thing is that it is not an automatic car, so your driving aptitude is good, possibly not seasoned but average. Simply drive it slow; those cars are like thoroughbreds, the lightest touch and they are speeding up to 200miles an hour"

(Good, you are good. You know you are good, don't you. I am not good, Mitchell. I am simply sensible. I am dealing with the cards I am given. Throwing them on the floor is sure not helping. Nor sulking as now. Good grief, he has taken a pet)

Both vampires, one long dead by human standard, one way too young to qualify for a pensioner pension, un-dead or not, were sharing one and only one body.

A truce had been decided from the beginning. The mind deciding the body was mainly Swanson (sorry, this is my body, it has been mine since the past 3…29years). Otherwise, the two men tried more or less amicably to make do and decide to intervene depending on what the cause of intervening was. This did not prevent banter, rants, caustic remarks and angry stands.

Both had a strong character and were not happy of the situation. (I want my body back. So do I) (Either the PBT fucked it or…They mismanaged it totally, grand style.)(I know them, full of themselves. Next thing bomb explode with your own vehicle turned into Hell fire…) (Fail proof plan, Aarrrgh).

On one thing though, they whole heartedly agreed. Whoever in the Afterlife had had the brilliant idea, should, would, was going to be blood drained dry, on each side of the neck by two angry, thunderous 20s vampires (For that, Mitchell , I shall do an effort and break my rule of abstinence with alacrity. Alacrity? That's, that's so so wrong, man).

- "Must not be easy for you. This van… Your Dad…"

- "Dad told me that it was wise to rage at what can't be changed. But be wise enough to recognize what can be changed"

- "Very wise indeed"

- "The van was falling to pieces. We would have never qualified for a bank loan. And werewolving is considered by unexplained reasons as a health hazard by the insurance company"

- "You shall drive back from Bristol. If I am satisfied, you will drive it while I carry on being the interesting patient. Once I am able to focus on the road and not faint every five minutes, I shall want it back. Meanwhile you'll carry on those make-do learner driver lessons. Mind you, no promise. If, I say if, you drive safe, I may be induced to get you a second hand car. Paid cash as no bank would loan any money for a car with my medical history"

- "Dad said bankers are like blood sucking sharks, vampires!"

The soldier eyebrows raised, as high as they would ever be (This ubiquitous McNair Sr is starting to get on my nerves, Mitchell. Welcome to the club, pal).

Whatever, the kid had a sense of humour that was endearing.

Between the country lanes, the painstaking drive (Kid wants to impress you) and a few stops where only that age-old reliable way men use to repair faulty engines(Use a spanner and hit it hard) could revive the moribund engine, they only reached town by early morning.

- "What do we do now?"

- "Now? Coffee! Strong black coffee first, then a second cup to make the first one less lonely. Some buttered toasts…and some cereals because we, vampires need more carbohydrates than you, humans. And black pudding! With 2 eggs, baked beans. A full English breakfast! Come, Mr McNair. We, lads, are going to live it up!"

- "I can afford a cup…"

- "Leave it to me, Kid. Between the benefits and my savings, if I can't find us a cheap decent joint opened for early birds, I am not called Swanson"

- "I can pay my share. Dad said…"

- "I am sure that your superior Dad knew better than refuse a sincere offer to a scrumptious breakfast. Come with me, Master Tom, we want strawberry jam and bacon, sausages. The fullest of all mothers of a full English Breakfast"

The tall man leading the tempted young man entered an unpretentious restaurant. If the seller was surprised at the ravenous appetite of his two customers, he did not pipe a word. The two men ordered each a "fullfeb" and left the plates clean.

Walking to the van, they kept silent, lost in their thoughts. Then, they became a lot less silent when they understood that the Tetanus mobile had permanently keeled over. The reliable van had died away from its owner, avoiding an emotional parting.

- "I can't leave it like that. Dad would not…"

- "Dad would what? Are you telling me that your Dad would spend good money on calling a pickup truck to save a dead car, pay with his credit card so the Old Ones can be alerted in the next following second that we are both in Bristol! Your Dad would probably approve on my staking, Tom, but he would not consent to a life of drudgery for you in a cage waiting every 4 weeks the full moon to kill an innocent human"

(A bit long winded, Swanson. Say, "cut the bullshit. It`s shorter)

- "We shall walk. And the garage is not far. We just wait till it's opened. I sign the papers, cash, I know, I called them yesterday; and we leave town. Hasta luego."

(Spanish? Mexican! Impressive. Either you get married, and worry about your family if you get killed down there, either you just have fun and travel a bit around. Glad you did, because your travel days are over. Over my dead body.)

- "What about the key?"


	4. Chapter 4

Shadows do not like Light, lights reveal all; shadows like to keep themselves to themselves. Light laughs and bounces back, shadow keeps a precise record of injuries and slights. The shadows were patient; one day, even if it took one billion years, they would win the Great Game. The Powers that Be, those crazy scientists would be, had to be contained; humoured yes, limited most certainly. They were too much revered and their proxy, the White Council was way too generous in their calculation for the System. Too much forgiving, not enough pain. The Directions were almost empty; might as well build an Argos shop instead.

The slave was missing, their most beautiful toy. The servant had rebelled; the slave had flown from the master grasp. The slave would be punished, as long as the master would wish. The soul was theirs. A long time ago, the slave had unwittingly fallen in their hands. What was once theirs was eternally theirs. When would they strike, when would the rebel back feel the lash of the whip...was just a matter of time. The shadows chuckled: time. Yes: timing is of the essence...

The two men were leisurely walking along the downbeat street. It was early; which did not prevent some Bristol citizens to enjoy the fresh morning sun rays. A few women dressed in bright Lycra were running toward a modest gym. Opposite, a surly mechanic was opening the doors of a garage which had seen better days. The younger and smaller one was going to cross the street, when his older companion grabbed his arm.

"Where are you going, Tom?"

"This is not the garage?"

"It is. But without the key, how do you plan to get it started?"

"You said you had the key!"

"I did not answer. I tapped my nose. Let's go to the gym."

"But, today is women's day. It says so on the front door poster. We can't?"

"We can and we will"

Looking at his companion and wondering if the soldier head injury had not been mislabelled from severe to totally bonkers, he followed the vampire. The arrival at the front desk of two good looking men was not un-noticed; but that is where it stopped. The posters about the numerous lesbian associations existing in Avon and Somerset were competing in direct line with Gay Affirmative Action Groups and the scattered TransGender committees. Those ladies were off bound and could only see in those splendid young males but two representants of the accursed male chauvinist oppressors.

Swanson looked unperturbed, asking to speak to the manager about collecting some object left into her care. Tom on the contrary, was quite shy; too many women looking at him made him blush.

(Hurry up, the kid is getting terrified. He will live; the sooner he realizes what sheltered life he had the better)

"What is it about, Sir? Today is our Laydiees day. I do not think you qualify!"

"We just want to collect a small package, left into your care. By Daisy Spiteri!"

If he had hoped to get the broad shouldered woman flustered, he was heading big time for disappointment. The manager was unflustered.

"Follow me to the back office"

Closing the door tight after they got into the room, she sat to her desk and sized them up. Whatever she sized must have been acceptable as she opened a drawer, fiddled for something and ended up pulling out an envelope. Reaching for a pair of glasses, she drew a very short card out of the envelop and began to read out loud:

"Ready?"

"Shoot"

"Where was it lost?"

"Bagdad?"

"Where was it found?"

"Pnom Penh"

"When was it found?"

"1941"

"What was lost?"

"A lighter"

Vampire riddles. Tom did not understand the questions, the answers made no sense; but the woman had grinned. She did further in the same drawer, though much, much deeper and took out a set of car keys with an old key ring. She slammed the keys on the desk.

"When does Daisy plan to come back? Her subscription is overdue"

(I got the keys)

"I do not think she will carry on sponsoring this charming temple of healthy living. She won't be seen on those shores for ...sometimes"

They left just as ignored as they had come in. This was just not their day.

"Now, we can get the car"

"You see Tom. Much depends on what you have prepared ahead. Ii is all about anticipation"

What was not anticipated was the manager reaction after they left. Whoever it was picked her call quick. {"Someone called. ...A man, twenty something. ...and his Bulldog!}

The lower part of a human body was heard whistling half digested by a car.

"Hello! I am here to collect Mr Spiteri car. I called yesterday to get it ready?"

The mechanic gave him a look and directed them to the main office. After accomplishing this exhausting customer service, his head disappeared again swallowed by the engine.

"Hi, we are here for Mr Ivan Spiteri car"

"Mr Spiteri owes me money."

"He does not. He pays once a year in advance a parking space in that superlative garage. "

The owner gave him the once over and gave up. This customer was not going to be taken for a ride; better pretend and get him and his nervous sidekick out as quickly as can be.

"Stan, get 16 down. Now!"

"Can't do, boss. Owner kept the keys"

"You'll have to collect it yourself. Space 16. You'll have to walk, the lift is broken"

Tom and Swanson exchanged a sigh. It was one of those days. The type of day which lures you into believing it is going to be a beautiful day, then bit by bit turns sour and damp.

The two men reached the second floor. The former lieutenant was as much as it is possible for a vampire breathless, and cyanosed. Tom who could have climb to the second floor 4steps at a time in the blink of an eye had wisely stopped the ascension at the first floor when he had perceived that Swanson was holding to the wall for dear life.

(How long are we going to be like that? Unless vampiric blood transfusion research gets funding, we are stuck sounding like the Big Bad Wolf of the 3 Little Pigs. .)

The sun outside was shining. Cars were parked in a long row. Number 16 typically was at the end. A rumble was heard in the silent level. The lift operator had finally started his belated repair work. The lift stopped at the lower floor.

Tom was quiet as always. Inside his head, it was quite different. The young man was thrilled to drive the lovely smooth purring engine. He had almost caressed the steering wheel under the amused gaze of his companion.

(Look, the kid thinks it is Christmas. I am not into religious stuff. Between your Jesuses and other Gods, I was thinking it was the opposite around)

Slowly, the car left its space and started in direction of the exit; all was fine. All was wrong. As the car turned down toward the ground floor, Tom pulled the brake. Swanson held the left door while Mitchell was opening with his right hand the glove compartment, reaching for the stake inside.

"Swan..."

"Later!"

Three men and an Asian woman were blocking the descent. Black orbs shining. Pulling out of his coat his father's long stake, Tom was ready for the fight. As for him, Swanson was ready too, the adrenalin dissipating any lingering weakness. Jumping on the precious car hood, the werewolf was looking down as the sinister quartet.

"Look, the dog wants to show us his tricks"

"Come here, pup...!"

The stake deep planted in his chest stopped flat the jeers. The woman followed her companion; that would teach her serving dog meat to her customers. Swanson was more cautious, holding the stake; he was hesitating between the two men. A wave of nausea seized him rendering him dizzy. The nearest vampire detached himself from his companion. Mistake. The stake taught him Big Bad John had not earned his nickname by respecting the rules of the Marquis of Queensbury. There was only one vampire left. Wisely, he refused the fight and ran or would have run away if Master Tom had not in a swift neck hold move snapped off his cervical vertebrae.

"Nice work, Tom McNair. Now let's go before the rest of the morgue turns up".

The engine started purring again. There was no trace in the ground floor garage of the mechanic or the owner. Just a splash of red paint on the car, and a flying car invoice showed that a "under new management" banner would soon be displayed.

"That's the problem with car service Tom, they are so bloody expensive"

They left Bristol, hoping no one was following them. But whoever has sent the welcome committee was not after them. Were they after the werewolf, after the McNairs, after Swanson or all of the above? Too many questions to answer. Leaving the van as cannibalized as could be would not be accepted by the renascent Bristol Vampire coven. They had to leave quickly. Ivan smooth operator was an unintended blessing.

"We must avoid the motorways. Be off the radar at all cost. Pay cash petrol and stay put until the night. Everybody knew about Ivan darling"

They reached a peaceful village on the English border. Without a word, Mitchell opened the passenger car, removed his jacket, and slammed his door. This target was the back seat. Closing his eyes, covering his head with said jacket, he uttered "Night". And went to sleep.

Tom, left to his own device, looked in the glove compartment, looked at the maps. There is so much one can do with maps. He made himself comfortable and followed Swanson steps. The previous night had been spent driving; they were both tired; the country lane leading to that wood was deserted. Finally peace. Birds' tweets can be cute. They can also be a darn nuisance when all you want to do is sleep. Rubbing his eyes, Tom yawned for England, looked in the rear mirror but all his could see was a corduroy jacket pushed away on the parcel shelf. Not turning his head, he called the sleeper.  
>- "Wake up, Swanson, it is mid-afternoon"<p>

- "Hey, wake up"

This time, he turned the head and could see that his call had not enticed the sleeper to open his eyes. At the end, tired of shouting, he resorted to shake up his heavy sleeping companion. Nothing was waking him up. Nothing. The vampire was getting on his nerves. Even opening up the door and pulling a leg did not stir the lieutenant. Swanson head injury had stricken back. He was again in a comatose state.  
>Finding himself stranded in the middle of nowhere, with an ill man, unable to defend himself from any attack, at risk from the Old Ones or any passerby armed with evil intentions was a dangerous situation. He could not leave the car, could not leave the man to call for help, could not even use his mobile as there was no signal bars! What to do? Where were they? Scanning the map at close range, he noticed a name. A typical English name had caught his attention. He knew that town. Deep down inside, he knew that place. And he knew now where to look for help…<p>

Help is on his way. Nice. Because he surely was not on "his" way. Trying to avoid detection meant slow driving, using every available country lane that could accommodate the width of this car resulted in reaching *** much later than wished for. Tractor day must have been today, as every agricultural engine existing under the sun was taking an airing on the roads; must have also included livestock transport day. Tom was raging, honking to no avail. The slow pokes were enjoying the summer; that and the pleasure of being a nuisance to that fancy foreign car was making their day. Muttering darkly about country bumpkins, the fed-up driver, his passenger and Ivan car entered the town. Where to find the road, how to get in the street, how to avoid swearing because since all these years, the town council had finally taken action and transform part of the avenue into a dead-end took more time. If by now the sleeper had not awakened, his condition must be critical. One can kill vampires without the flicker of an eye if those are monsters, but to allow a so far innocent man to die was another thing. From experience, he remembered how his Dad had taken badly the massacre of the innocent man with whom he had shared the Cage on a Change night. This left scars. As it was Tom had enough scars to begin with without wishing more.

The car slowly engaged in the alley and stopped. Nobody could see it as it was wisely parked behind the house. Said house was impressive. It boasted status, wealth. From it a few stairs reached down extensive lawns and the night swallowed the rest of the grounds. If one stretched his eyes, one could figure out the darker shadows of trees. The owner could afford a gardener and a landscaper! Whatever was the financial assets of said landowner, what was sure if that this household was asleep. No other car was parked. Good, it meant the family was away. Probably enjoying a well deserved holiday somewhere in Italy. He steadied the slumping form and started pressing the bricks with supported the white columns of the conservatory door. One final push and yes. Here it was: the house keys. Blessing the custom of every house owner to hide the keys under a brick or a plant near the outside door, he entered pushing around Swanson. Better not turn on the light. Yes, a sofa and some capacious armchairs. Swanson, here you lay on the sofa, at least you will not fall. Me I shall sleep in this cushiony chair.  
>This house owner may have been old fashioned regarding his keys; when it came to house alarms, he was surprisingly very up to date. Not only the house was equipped with numerous CCTV cameras, but had been set in every room a thermal and movement detector from the ceiling angle but also the floor angle. Humans walk. I want their feet moves detected; they will not expect this nor a dual autonome alarm system.<p>

Tom was almost asleep when the lights turned on. This was OK as Mitchell had finally aroused Swanson from his deep sleep. Both men were greeted by the most extraordinary vision ever offered to would be house burglars who they were most certainly not.  
>A short-sighted lady of a certain age in a homely night robe, bare footed, was holding above her head a katana in an impressive though inaccurate attempt to mimic a samurai ready to behead his enemy.<p>

- "What the fuck?" was pronounced in a touching harmony three times, though the last one was only heard in Swanson`s head.

- "What are you doing in my house! And those pillows cost a fortune! Remove your shoes!"

- "We…we are sorry. We thought you had all gone away…"

- "Well I am not away, because I am not going to bloody climb up mountains: that`s why. I can do 2 hours of gym weekly, but I`ll be damned if I feel obliged to adorn any summit of this cursed planet with my personal flag. Why not wee on them like a dog to mark my territory!"

- "You`re awake"

- "Where are we?"

- "In my house and do not move…err…Tommy…?"

Tom had turned his head to the right to reply to the vampire, showing to the ferocious woman his hair.

- "Tommy? Is it you?"

The young man turned back to face the Japanese sabre wielder with a scarlet face.

- "Hum….hi Auntie Marge"

- "Tommy, my Tommy, sweet child, come and give a hug to your aunt. Come, come inside the house. Yes, that means you. Your friend seems a bit slow…"

They proceeded in the darken rooms bumping into furniture. Why did this relative of the McNairs did not turn up the light was to remain a mystery. Only when they did reach the entrance Hall, did she turn on the wall sconces.

-"Now take off your shoes. Maid has just hoovered the front room carpet and she will hand her notice if we ever dirty again her work and we do not want that, do we?"  
>(Is she also a werewolf? No, but she has a spider in her attic)<p>

The Front room door was pushed aside, and the vampire entered a museum.

- "Sit, sit. Tommy, how are you doing? We have been all so worried, no more post cards, no phone calls. Your uncle and your cousin are going to be so disappointed to have missed you…"

Unabashedly, Tom McNair was helping himself in the proffered Belgian chocolate box.

- "How was Sri Lanka?"

- "Hot, muggy but lovely. Are you hungry? I hope you are staying! I will not take no for an answer"  
>(Does she always talk as much as that? Hand me the choccies, Tom)<p>

- "Where is Anthony? I have not seen my brother in law for ages! I must tell him I have done some research and…"

- "Dad`s dead"  
>The chirpy woman stopped speaking, looking at her nephew with sudden gravitas.<p>

- "Daddy is dead…"

- "Oh my, Oh poor child, Poor, poor Tommy. Oh, you were right to come home!"

- "My father is…"

Men do not cry, but little boys can. Children lost into a cruel world. Swanson looked away. He saw in the mirror over the chimney that McNair sister-in-law was standing up, holding in her arms, and rocking gently the cub. The talkative woman had morphed into a tender parent. Stroking with infinite tenderness the young man grievously scarred hair, she was just hushing his pain away.

- "I know, sweet. I know…I am here, sweet. We are here. Nothing wrong can happen here…"

- "You know what? You go to the kitchen and bring us some Juice. I feel this is a night that will require Vitamin C…"

Tom left the room, head down. Mitchell looked back to find himself under the scrutiny of a bespectacled worryingly sharp looking werewolves relative.  
>- "Who are you? I mean "I", even "I" know you,…, your…kind. You, your people killed my sister. What are you doing with Tom? I warn you, Anthony told us a lot and we know you people. I am not going to countenance my favourite and only nephew in a cage for all his life!"<p>

(Humans, real humans aware of us and werewolves? Lady`s not a fool. You better let me sweeten her up)

- "Don`t try to sweeten me up. Lady is not for turning or whatever. Who are you, what is your game, how did Tony die? You better tell me the truth. I warn you, I am trained to know when people try to bullshit me!"

Swanson raised his arms in mock surrender.

- "OK. Name`s Swanson. Tom and I went to collect a car in I, …I fa…was temporarily incapacitated and your nephew thought it wise to hide and visit his family impromptu!"

(Fucking incapacitated, you nearly passed out. I could not revive you. Sorry, my fault. Thought I could make do without a day or two of Nurse Pickering pills collection.)

- "What happened, really happened? Child is way too in shock. I can`t and will not have him hurting more. So spill the beans, I am all ears!"

(Best way out is to tell the truth. What? Are you crazy?)

- "Your brother died about 2, 3 weeks ago. Killed by one of my…kind. This man had been dealt with. I shall tell you that much. Herrick is as dead as one could wish for"

A nod was his answer. The human was not in forgiving mode. She cleared the coffee table and let Tom set on it a tray laden with food.

- "Wills has taught me to always, always make sure he can snack at whatever hour of the day or the night. Now, he is in London Met Uni, but I still buy food. My God, I still buy it. Mind you, today proves me right!"

- "Do you always talk as much?

- "Why, yes. God, a lousy plumber if there ever was one, gave us vocal cords. I like to speak and if humanity was speaking and listening a bit more to its brother, life would be great, don`t you think"

- "Some things are better left unsaid"

- "That`s because there`s no one to listen at them , listen at what it means really. Tom, you will sleep in Wills' room as for your interesting friend, he will be in the Guest Room"  
>That night, Swanson slept on the best ever mattress he ever laid his tired back on.<br>(Now, that is comfy. That attic bed is killing. Way too short for my legs. Don't know, never slept on it. That does not bother you a human not flustered by us, I mean by you. I can hear her pulse, really inviting, but will not give in. She has locked her bedroom door and I think she had a stake near her bed! Talkative, yes. A fool, not!)

When he woke up the next morning, it was brunch hour. Taking his time to go downstairs to the kitchen, he met halfway Tom going up.

- "The shower is on the left of the hallway. Auntie is downstairs, she is not working today"

- "Ah, Mr Swanson, pray, do come in. I am in the kitchen. What will it be coffee, tea?"

- "Coffee, thank you"

The table deserted by the young werewolf looked like an army of starving dogs had been allowed to run loose on it. Tom`s aunt was not perturbed though. She opened another jam pot, brought more toasts, some fresh fruits and sat a stake close at hand.

- "Mr Swanson, Tom taking a shower, we now can have a cosy chat without risk of interruption or distress. What is a vampire doing in a WWF home?"

- "A what?"

- "Initials stand for werewolves friendly home. Most werewolves have families, human families. I suppose you have the same back-up for your people…"  
>- "No, we do not. Probably because we kill them first or they are so afraid of us they flee forever never to be seen again"<p>

- "That is not fair, You are bitten or whatever thing happens to you and then your own family rejects you. When Deb and Tony were…altered, we certainly did not inform the journalists, but we made clear that our house, our home would always be open to them. What happened after Tony got killed and why was he killed?"

(Good, she stays focus. Because you plan to tell her… There are things I never told George, never told you…I`m aware you, somehow have managed to plant fences in my head…Just like you didn`t on your side.) (There are things you…must not know, I know)

- "To cut a long story very short, McNair van was tottering toward death. I knew of a car in Bristol. We collected the car and voila"

- "Where were you going?"

- "Barry Island"

- "Because they do not have cars in Wales. You are living near Cardiff , but what the heck, lets buy a car in Bristol. I am surprised you did not go to Dublin or Cork, for all I care? Why Bristol?"

(I give up, take over Mitchell)

- "I promise, that I can do, that I`ll make sure no wrong befalls your nephew"

- "You need to tell me more than that"

- "Sorry, that`s it. By the way, what do you put in your coffee? It tastes like you had put pepper in it"

- "Cardamone. Enhance the caffeine. Why a vampire would befriend a werewolf?"

- "I like the kid"

- "I like my nephew and I am not happy with you around him"

- "It is good for him to have a family, a normal family, a caring family"

Facing him on one of the shelf, family pictures were scattered. He could detect Marge husband and son. Son was spitting image of Dad with his mother scanning eyes. Another much older photo in black and white was showing 2 teenage girls with miniskirts. About same age, one was a beauty, Marge, well, she never had a pretension to beauty. Another one presented a newlywed couple, the Beauty and a younger McNair with a barely healed scar. McNair was worried as is expected in those circumstances. Finally, the most recent of photos which got his attention was Marge husband standing by McNair with in front of them 2 young boys, grinning and each missing a front tooth. Dads and their progeny.

- "You know about…Tom?"

- "Yes, Tony adopted him. Best thing he did. After Deb…was killed, he went down a spiral of despair; he really went…mad, wild. We were concerned, we stopped hearing from him. Then one day, about a year or two later, he turns up with Tommy. Ah Tommy, I never saw a child with such a florid case of chicken pox! Wills passed it like a breeze but poor Tom…"

- "…"

- "Anyhow, we welcomed the boys. I took over. Wills and Tom bonded and that's it"

- "So, this house has always been… "

- "…a safe haven whenever Tony needed a place to rest. It helped him moneywise. He knew that in case of health emergency, we would always be there…"

- "You are what a nurse?"

- "No, I am a doctor. A GP. Never thought that I would ever come in so handy for my family. But here I am. General Practitioner with a special interest in werewolves. Paediatrics, gynaecology, dermatology, must have ticked all the boxes…"

- "Gynaecology? Did you ever come across a pregnant werewolf?"

- "You!...You are a monster. No, I am sorry, It is not you who...You would not know. Naturally I came across. What do you think my sister was when you,..., your people killed her. All had been doing fine. All was going OK; I had been terrified at the beginning for her especially when she started that fast track pregnancy, but calculating the influence of the change, the 4 weeks cycle, and all made sense. She was doing OK. Tony was so happy. Life was not going to be easy for them, but then it never is. And on the day, she should have had the baby, you, you killed her. They tried to outrun your kind, but she could not run fast. You, you killed her. Tony, Tony never cried. He packed his bag and left. We buried Deb and… and then came Tom and I do not care if he is or not my biological nephew, we love him. Deb would have been so proud if her child had been like our Tom"

"What about me, Auntie?"

"Just saying what a good boy you are and do not think for one second I am going to buy this angelic mien, you need a new shirt or two and..."

"...we must leave. George and Nina, my friends, friends like me, they must be worried. I cannot call them, still no signal and I will not call them using your home line"

"Some of my...people do not approve of trying for a peace treaty between our two species. Retribution would be terrible, for you, your family and Tom"

"Will you call again, Tommy?"

"Yes, aunt. I will. I shall pass to George the entire emails addresses list you gave me. George will contact you probably..."

"Nina will. For sure. I get ready and we go in twenty minutes sharp."

(Twenty? Not 19 or 21? Do not push me. Respecting schedules make life so much easier)

When he came back, the aunt and nephew were outside looking at Ivan car.

"What are you going to do?"

"Go back to Barry and we take it from there"

"With that car?"

"It works fine"

"Tom tells me it belonged to a...friend of yours"

"He does not need it anymore"

"And you are going to Barry with a car belonging to a well-known vampire. A car which all your community is aware of. I am surprised you have not advertised on the television your itinerary?"

"What do you propose? Train? Bus? Auto stop?"

"I have better"

She walked to the door of her three cars garage. Opened wide the door and showed a 1957 Mercedes-Benz 300SL Gullwig Coupe. The car was simply a stunner.

An admirative whistle escaped Swanson lips (Isn't she a beauty. It is a car, Mitchell, just a car; if anything goes be, she is also a guzzler)

"Your uncle and I brought it back from Dordogne. We got it repaired down there, but she has never been given a license yet in the UK and its last French license was cancelled in 1969. We paid it cash; fact is she is the most anonymous car one can dream of. Take it"

"Auntie..."

"Don't Auntie me. Wills toured Japan for his 20th birthday. Your uncle will get another car; beside it is for you, not for a stranger! You get the car. After all, it is not like you cost us a lot in Christmas, Birthdays gifts. Take it. Your friend can drive his vampiric friend car. You get the Mercedes, that's it!"

"But Swanson is way too wea...tired to drive"

"After drinking your Aunt coffee, if she feels generous enough to give us a thermos of it, I think I can drive straight up to New York in nonstop. You must put something in that coffee of yours. Not only it is good, weird but good; but it has curative properties"

(You sure? You bet! This woman is a witch, a good witch. I have seldom felt as good since a very, very long time)

The two vintage cars, one following the other left soon the village. After a long hug, Marge had kissed her nephew forehead and allowed him to get in his, "his" own Mercedes; and they were gone.

Mitchell would never tell the young man how jealous he had felt. Both were monsters; yet one had been chased from the hearth of humanity, while the other still had a place to call home. For Tom, there was still a house, loving relatives, private jokes, and a shared past, something which he could call his own.

When was the last time a feminine hand had gently stroke his hair and made sure his room was warm enough or open just for him a box of cookies with a naughty smile? It had been a long time since he had thought about his own mother; when was it last time? With Josie? The closest he had come to a family was in Bristol in the Pink House before his moment of madness had destroyed everything he held dear.

(She was the most beautiful mother, Swanson. All our mothers are beautiful not because we love them, but because they love us selflessly. Pure love makes that to them)


End file.
